Ted and the Telephone | Page 3

had come the
sudden and terrible illness, and after weeks of anxiety everybody
realized that if Mr. Laurie lived he would be fortunate, and that he
would never be able to carry on any business at all.

In what hushed tones the townspeople talked of the tragedy and how
they speculated on what the Fernalds would do now. And how
surprised the superintendent of one of the mills (who, by the way, had
six husky boys of his own) had been to have Mr. Lawrence Fernald
bridle with rage when he said he was sorry for him. A proud old man
was Mr. Fernald, senior. He did not fancy being pitied, as his
employees soon found out. Possibly Mr. Clarence Fernald did not like
it any better but whether he did or not he at least had the courtesy not to
show his feelings.
Thus the years had passed and Mr. Laurie had grown from childhood to
boyhood. He could now ride about in a motor-car if lifted into it; but he
could still walk very little, although specialists had not given up hope
that perhaps in time he might be able to do so. There was a rumor that
he was strapped into a steel jacket which he was forced to wear
continually, and the mill hands commented on its probable discomfort
and wondered how the boy could always keep so even-tempered. For it
was unavoidable that the large force of servants from Aldercliffe and
Pine Lea should neighbor back and forth with the townsfolk and in this
way many a tale of Mr. Laurie's rare disposition reached the village.
And even had not these stories been rife, anybody could easily have
guessed the patience and sweetness of Mr. Laurie's nature from his
smile.
Among the employees of Fernald and Company he was popularly
known as the Little Master and between him and them there existed a
friendliness which neither his father nor his grandfather had ever been
able to call out. The difference was that for Mr. Lawrence Fernald the
men did only what they were paid to do; for Mr. Clarence they did fully
what they were paid to do; and for Mr. Laurie they would gladly have
done what they were paid to do and a great deal more.
"The poor lad!" they murmured one to another. "The poor little chap!"
Of course it followed that no one envied Mr. Laurie his wealth. How
could they? One might perhaps envy Mr. Fernald, senior, or Mr.
Clarence; but never Mr. Laurie even though the Fernald fortune and all
the houses and gardens, with their miles of acreage, as well as the vast

cotton mills would one day be his. Even Ted Turner, poor as he was,
and having only the prospect of the factories ahead of him, never
thought of wishing to exchange his lot in life for that of Mr. Laurie. He
would rather toil for Fernald and Company to his dying day than be this
weak, dependent creature who was compelled to be carried about by
those stronger than himself.
Nevertheless, in spite of this, there were intervals when Ted did wish
he might exchange houses with Mr. Laurie. Not that Ted Turner
coveted the big colonial mansion, or its fountains, its pergolas, its wide
lawns; but he did love gardens, flowers, trees, and sky, and of these he
had very little. He was, to be sure, fortunate in living on the outskirts of
the village where he had more green and blue than did most of the mill
workers. Still, it was not like Vermont and the unfenced miles of
country to which he had been accustomed. A small tenement in
Freeman's Falls, even though it had steam heat and running water, was
in his opinion a poor substitute for all that had been left behind.
But Ted's father liked the new home better, far better, and so did Ruth
and Nancy, his sisters. Many a time the boy heard his father
congratulating himself that he was clear of the farm and no longer had
to get up in the cold of the early morning to feed and water the stock
and do the milking. And Ruth and Nancy echoed these felicitations and
rejoiced that now there was neither butter to churn nor hens to care for.
Even Ted was forced to confess that Freeman's Falls had its advantages.
Certainly the school was better, and as his father had resolved to keep
him in it at least a part of the high-school term, Ted felt himself to be a
lucky boy. He liked to study. He did not like all studies, of course. For
example, he detested Latin, French, and history; but he revelled in
shop-work, mathematics, and the sciences. There was nothing more to
his